


Heda

by eternaleponine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:06:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5367773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is chosen as the next commander, and looks to Anya for support.  They end up reminiscing about when Lexa was first Anya's second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heda

"Heda?"

Lexa finally looked up, wondering how many times her name – no, not her name, her title, her name was still Lexa – had been called before she remembered that she was the one being addressed. It had only been a few days, and she was still not used to it. "Yes?"

"There is someone who wishes to see you. She says her name is Anya."

"Let her in," Lexa said immediately. She didn't like the fact that she was being guarded by people who didn't know that Anya ought to be able to see her whenever she wanted, without permission. (She didn't like the fact that she was being guarded at all, but that was another thing entirely. She hoped it was just a formality, just for the first little while until people got used to the idea that she was in charge.)

"Yes, Heda," the man said, and a second later Anya stepped into the tent.

"Leave us," Lexa said, glad that it came out sounding like a command rather than a request. She had to learn to speak with authority now – not just in battle but all the time. The guard obeyed without question, leaving them alone.

"You sent for me, Heda?" Anya asked, her back straight, posture rigid, face blank.

"I..." Lexa felt like she'd been served a blow to the gut that she hadn't seen coming. "Anya."

"Heda."

"No." Lexa forced herself to remain still even as she itched to crawl out of her skin that no longer felt like it fit. "Heda did not send for you."

Anya's eyebrows went up.

"Lexa did. _I_ did." Nothing. No response. Lexa wanted to scream, but what came out was much worse. "Anya, _please_." _Please don't do this to me. Please don't treat me like a stranger when you are all that I have._ Because her mother had died when she was younger and her father when she was younger still, and Anya had taken her on as her second, had taken her in and become her mentor. She had tried, at first, to keep some kind of distance between them, as if giving Lexa any kind of comfort would make her soft, but in the end it had been Anya who had softened, who had given in to Lexa's (mostly) silent pleading and become her friend, and her family.

"So we are Lexa and Anya, not the Commander and one of her generals?" Anya asked.

"Yes," Lexa said. "We are alone, so we are Lexa and Anya." Because she knew that when others were around she couldn't afford to be seen as soft, or weak, or in need of support or guidance.

"And yet you command me to come," Anya said. There was something in her voice, something Lexa didn't quite understand. A coldness, or... a distance, anyway. A reserve. Anya had rarely been very demonstrative, but this was different. This felt almost like rejection, or resentment, or... 

"I didn't command you," Lexa said. "I asked you to come. I wanted to see you. I told them to tell you to come when you were able. It was not my intention to pull you away from anything that was pressing. I did not ask you to be relieved of your command, if that's what you think. But the latest report I had said that you were not currently engaged, and so I asked them to ask you to come."

"Why?" Anya asked. 

"I wanted..." _I wanted to see you. I wanted someone familiar nearby. Someone who would not treat me as Heda, but as Lexa. Someone who would not act as if I have suddenly become someone different._

But she _was_ someone different, and Anya's reaction was proof of that. 

"I am going to Polis," Lexa said. "I wanted you to come with me. If I am to be recognized as Commander, I want those who will be... closest to me to be known as well." Which made it sound like she had commanded Anya after all, that she had done all of the things that she'd said she wasn't doing... Her fingers clenched at her sides, and she forced herself to loosen them. "You have never led me wrong before."

Anya looked at her, and there was something in her eyes now that Lexa hadn't expected: sorrow. "I cannot lead you now," she said. "There is no one who can lead you now. The only ones who have walked the path you are on now are dead. You are the one who leads. That is what it means to be Commander."

"Then I am alone," Lexa said.

Anya nodded. "You are alone."

Lexa felt her heart, and stomach, clench, and she could hardly force the air into or out of her lungs as she felt her world get very, very large, and very, very small all at once. 

"I will not make you stay, then," Lexa said, looking past Anya now. "I am sorry to have taken you away from the things that are important." She forced herself to turn her back, so that Anya would not see how hard she was fighting to keep herself together. She had thought that when Anya came, it would make her feel better, but no, she felt worse. 

Lexa listened for the sound of her retreating footsteps, but there was nothing, and the silence stretched between them, and the air felt as if it grew thinner, and thinner, and Lexa thought she might have to command Anya to leave, thought maybe she was waiting for that, to be told instead of asked.

"No," Anya said. "No, Lexa. I'm sorry."

Lexa felt her approach, heard the shifting of her weight and the soft fall of her feet. She felt a hand on her back, warm between her shoulder blades. She did not move, because if she did it would be to push back against the touch, and she couldn't do that. Now that comfort was offered, she knew that she couldn't accept it. And it ached, and it burned, and she wished that Anya had left after all, or never come in the first place. 

"You are important," Anya said. "More important now than ever, and if I cannot lead you, that does not mean I can't have your back." 

Lexa turned her head, looking over and slightly up at her. "You will have my back?"

"Of course I will," Anya said. "I would not turn my back on you. Just because you are no longer my second does not change the fact that I feel a responsibility toward you. It is more my responsibility now than ever. It is all of our responsibility."

"The fact that I am the Commander does not change the training that you gave me," Lexa said, and it came out sounding a little defensive, like a child whining that they could take care of themself. "It does not change the fact that you have taught me to defend myself."

"No," Anya said, "but it changes your value as a target." 

Lexa barely managed to suppress a sigh. "I did not ask for this," she said. 

"No," Anya said, "but it is what you were meant to do. You would not be doing it otherwise."

Lexa nodded, and wished she would feel so confident. She knew that this was how it worked – that when the Commander died, their spirit went to the one meant to be the next Commander. It didn't mean she hadn't had to prove herself, that there hadn't been others who had also been beckoned by the spirit of Heda, but she had been the victor, and this was her prize. 

If the stakes hadn't been so high, she might have wished that she had lost. 

"I wanted you to come," Lexa said softly, "because I wanted, at least for a moment, to feel normal. I wanted you to come because I wanted to see _you_."

"And I'm here," Anya said. "But there's no going back, Lexa. We are not who we were. We never can be again."

"Can we just imagine that we can?" Lexa asked. "Just for a moment." Her voice was soft, small, and she felt even smaller. She felt like the girl who Anya had taken by the hand and led away from the pyre where she'd stood for hours, watching her mother burn. She felt like the child who hadn't even come up to her new mentor's chin, and who had been too bold in the way she spoke to her sometimes, and locked into silence other times because she was afraid to say the wrong thing and risk being sent away when she had nowhere to go. 

"Just for a moment," Anya said, and then her arms were around Lexa, pulling her close and holding her tight. Lexa wrapped her arms around her in return, squeezing her as she pressed her face down into her shoulder, into the curve where it shaded into her neck, and her skin was warm and vital and she could feel her pulse there if she tried. 

She felt Anya's fingers in her hair, cradling the back of her head, working over her scalp, and Lexa didn't mean for it to happen, but she felt tears fill her eyes and slip out, and she knew that Anya felt the dampness on her skin, but she had been granted a moment's amnesty from comment on how strong she needed to be, especially now. 

"You were chosen for this," Anya murmured close to her ear. "You were never like the other seconds, and you know it. You have always known it. You have always stood slightly apart from them, always one step ahead, one notch above. Even when you were the youngest, or nearly, they looked to you. They were only warriors – some of them very good warriors – but you were always thinking ahead, always planning. You were smart. You still are. People see that. They recognize it in you. It won't be easy, but you can do this, Lexa."

She nodded, letting herself cling for a moment more before letting go and stepping back. She felt Anya's hands fall away, but slowly, lingering, her last motion before letting them drop to wipe the tears from Lexa's cheeks. "There," she said. "You're all right."

Lexa nodded again, not quite ready or able to form words yet, and absolutely unsure what to say. Finally she asked, because it hadn't really been a question before, and she needed Anya to know that it was a question, not a command, "Will you come with me to Polis? I will need generals, advisors that I can trust. I trust you more than anyone."

"I will come," Anya said. "Of course I will come."

"Thank you."

"When do we leave?" Anya asked. 

"Tomorrow. First light."

Anya seemed to consider that, then nodded. "They will be all right without me. There was no imminent attack when I left; we were only watching and monitoring, and I think for now everyone is more concerned about preparing for winter than about waging war against each other."

"One can hope," Lexa said. "That should be our primary concern as well."

"Not yours," Anya said. "There are others to worry about that. Your responsibility is to keep us safe."

"Is making sure that none of our people starve not part of that?" Lexa asked. "If my job is to keep us all from dying, how is that not my concern?"

Anya sighed. "There are others who have been doing this longer who know best what we need to prepare," she said. "I am concerned you will take on too much all at once and flounder. Focus on the things that people will look to you for first, and monitor the progress of other things if you must, but these are early days, Lexa, and you do not want to be seen to fail in what is most important – the defense of our people – because you are wrapped up in other things."

It was sound advice, and Lexa knew it, but she didn't like the idea that she should ignore one aspect of survival when there were others that were just as important, or more so. She could remember – vaguely, but she remembered – a winter where, due to constant battles, they had not been as prepared for winter as they should have been, and then sickness had struck along with hunger, and the healers had not been prepared for that either, and they had lost many that year. Her mother had taken ill, but she had recovered, and Lexa remembered nursing her, hardly sleeping at night for fear that when she woke up in the morning her mother would not. 

"I will take that under consideration," Lexa said evenly.

Anya snorted, and Lexa knew, because she knew her, that she was trying not to laugh. Not because she didn't take Lexa seriously – she did, she always had, and Lexa was rarely not serious about anything and everything – but because she knew exactly what her former second meant she would consider something: she would remember what she was told, but in nine times out of ten, ignore it completely.

"Was there anything else you needed?" Anya asked. 

"No," Lexa said. 

"I'll leave you alone, then," Anya said. "Let you rest for tomorrow."

"You don't have to," Lexa said, a little too quickly and her voice too sharp. She tried to smooth out its ends, soften the note of panic that she feared would creep in. "They have me under guard anyway. Who better to guard me than the one who taught me all that I know?"

"Not all," Anya said wryly. "You have a few tricks you came up with yourself." 

"And didn't you hate it when I beat you with them," Lexa said. The corners of her mouth edged up, the closest thing to a smile she'd managed in what felt like an eternity, but really it had only been a few days. Ever since she'd heard about the death of the old commander. Ever since she'd realized what she had to do. Ever since she realized that she'd done it...

"No," Anya said seriously. "I didn't hate it. That is what one hopes for, when one takes on a second – that eventually they will be better than you. That eventually they will beat you. Then you know that you can let them go on their own and they will be okay." 

"What if I never had?" Lexa asked. "What if..."

"There is no point in 'what if' and 'if only'," Anya said. "One cannot change the past and one cannot predict the future. You are faced with a choice, and you make it, and you live with the consequences, whatever they are. There is no use looking back and wondering what the outcome would have been if you had chosen differently."

"I'm not talking about a choice," Lexa said. "I'm talking about what would have happened if you had trained me, but I had never learned enough to defeat you. What if I had never become the warrior that you wanted me to be?"

"That I wanted you to be?" Anya's eyebrows went up. "You are the one who made the choice to become a warrior. You are the one who accepted what I offered, and who kept at it even when you were tired and sore and hungry and cold and everything else that we are expected to suffer without complaint. I pushed you, yes, to be the best that you could be, but you pushed yourself harder."

"I had to," Lexa said. "I didn't want you to change your mind."

"When you were young, perhaps," Anya said. "But once you got a little older, you knew that I would not turn you out."

"If I was not a warrior, you would," Lexa said. "You would leave me behind, because you would not have any other choice but to do so. I didn't want to be left behind."

"I remember." Anya rubbed her hands together. The sun was setting and a chill was setting in. "Do you want me to make us some tea?"

Lexa blinked, then nodded. "Yes. Please."

"Of course. I'll be right back."

"I can—"

"Stay here," Anya said. "For now, stay here."

Lexa sighed. She didn't like feeling like a prisoner. She told herself that it was only for a little while, that it could only be for a few days, that she would only let it be for a few days. Once she was safely in Polis, once she had been officially... declared? revealed? the new Commander, then she would be forced to go back to standing on her own two feet, and everything would feel... more normal, anyway... again.

She paced, because she didn't know what else to do, while she waited for Anya to return. When she came back, she took the offered mug and sipped the hot, woody and just a little bit spicy liquid, then blew on it when she burned her tongue. 

"Careful, it's hot," Anya said, giving her a sly sidelong look.

Lexa almost stuck her tongue out at her, but she was too old for that now. It had been years since she had been that child... and had she ever been that child with Anya? Once or twice, maybe, but she'd always been so worried about impressing her mentor that she had tried very hard to grow up quickly. 

"I remember the first time I left you behind," Anya said. "It wasn't long after I'd taken you as my second, and you didn't know enough yet for me to take you with me. You were learning quickly, but not quickly enough that I was willing to risk you on a mission that had an outcome that was far from easy to predict."

"Why did you have to go?" Lexa asked. "Why _you_ , when they knew you had just taken me on?"

"I chose to go," Anya said. "I didn't tell you that then, because I didn't want you to think that I wanted to leave you behind. But I chose to go, because it was the village where I grew up that was under threat, and I wanted to protect them. My friends, my family."

"Family?"

"I had a brother," Anya said. 

"Had?"

Anya nodded. "Had. He was still alive then, but he isn't anymore."

"What happened?"

"He died."

Lexa knew better than to keep asking questions. If she pushed too hard, Anya would shut down and the conversation would be over. "So you chose to go back."

"Yes. And we managed to push back those who were threatening the village, and the casualties were light, thankfully. One death, a few injuries. I took a cut to the thigh, but nothing too serious. It made the walk back seem about ten times as long, though." She smiled a little. "I remember when we got back, we were greeted by the friends and family of those who had gone, and everyone was so happy to see us back relatively unharmed. And then there was you."

"I was happy to see you," Lexa said. "I—"

"Am I allowed to tell this story my own way" Anya asked, "or must I be interrupted every other word by you trying to correct me?"

"I'm not—" Lexa started, but stopped at the look that Anya shot in her direction. She wasn't angry – Lexa knew that she wasn't really angry – but she was conditioned to stop whatever she was doing when that glare was leveled at her. Conditioning, she assumed, she would need to break. "Go on."

"Thank you," Anya said, and there was more than a little sarcasm in it, but more than a little affection, too. This was their dynamic. This was who they were, and Lexa relaxed into it, into feeling normal for a little while, as she sat down, cradling her tea between her palms. 

"We arrived back, and everyone was greeted by family and friends," Anya repeated. "Everyone except me. I saw you there, but you hung back, apart from everyone else. And it wasn't because you didn't want to join in. I could see, as I separated myself from the group, that you were looking for me, and I could see it written all over your face – although you tried valiantly to hide it – and all through your body, how much you wanted to run to me. But you didn't budge. You stayed exactly where you stood, your hand resting on the hilt of your knife, gripping it so tight that your knuckles were white, and waited for me to come to you."

Lexa remembered. She remembered searching the faces of those returning, taking them in as a group, and then as individuals, waiting to the see the face that she was sure wouldn't come back, because when people left her they didn't come back... at least not alive. She had tried to peer through the crush of bodies into the litters to see who had fallen, and whether they were alive or dead. Anya had been one of the last to arrive, limping but on her own two feet, and Lexa had felt like lightning was gathering under her skin as she held back on running to her, launching herself at her and wrapping her arms around her and holding on. But she'd known even then that she couldn't do that. She wasn't Anya's mother, or sister, or child. She wasn't her lover. She was her second, but a second too young and small and weak and inexperienced to be taken along. She was no one.

"You were practically vibrating with all the pent-up energy you were holding back, and your eyes got darker and darker, like a gathering storm, the closer I got. By the time I stood in front of you, you were glaring at me like I had offended you somehow by returning. You looked up at me and you scowled so hard I thought your face might freeze that way. 'You're hurt.' The way you said it, it was like an accusation."

"You laughed at me." 

"I did," Anya said. "I laughed at you, because you were so angry at me for being hurt."

Lexa shook her head. "I wasn't angry at you for getting hurt," she said. "I was angry at you for leaving me alone, to be scared for days that you wouldn't return. I spent the entire time you were gone trying to figure out what I would do when you didn't come back, if there was anyone who would want me or if I would be on my own for good. I already knew that the other warriors didn't see in me what you saw. I already knew that they would have no interest in taking me on as a second. I didn't know where I would sleep, or what I would eat although I knew no one would let me freeze or starve. But I was still young, Anya. I still wanted to feel like I had someone looking out for me. I wanted to not be alone. I was angry because I thought you would be that person, and then you left."

"And then I came back," Anya said. "To a girl so full of rage I thought for a moment you might use that knife on me."

"And yet still you laughed."

"What was I supposed to do? I knew that you were not a threat to me. Not yet." She smiled at Lexa. "You took my pack and carried it, and you let me lean on your shoulder as we walked so that I could take a little of the weight off of my leg. You walked back to our tent and helped me sit down, and then before I could say anything, you took off."

"I went to get the healer," Lexa said.

"I know," Anya replied, "although I didn't then. I didn't think you were gone for good, in any case, so I just laid back to rest for a little while; it had been a very long walk. I was surprised when you came back only a few minutes later, and with the healer. There were others more badly injured than I was; I had thought it would take some time for him to come around, or that I would just deal with it myself. But you brought him back."

"I didn't give him a choice," Lexa said. "I was good with that knife."

Anya looked at her, startled, then laughed. "You threatened him?"

"A little," Lexa said. "I didn't know how bad your injuries were. You'd come back. I wasn't going to take any chances."

"And how did you know that there were not others that were worse off than me?" Anya asked. "Would you have pulled him away from someone who needed his care more than I did?"

Lexa frowned, trying to remember what she had been thinking those years ago, which really weren't so distant but seemed a lifetime ago. "No," she said. "But he would have gone to those worst off first, and the person that he was caring for when I found him was up and talking, and all he was doing was bandaging the wound, and he was finishing anyway."

Anya nodded, as if acknowledging that it was sound enough logic... if logic could be applied to the actions of a scared girl who thought she might be losing the only person that she had left. "All right. But did you need to threaten him?"

Lexa shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Did it occur to you that he might only have been humoring you?" Anya asked. "You weren't much of a threat back then."

"It worked, didn't it?" Lexa repeated. "It doesn't matter why it worked."

Anya smiled. "Fair enough. So you came back with the healer, and he patched me up, and then it was just the two of us again, and you set about making me some tea, as the healer had prescribed. You wouldn't even look at me... except when you thought I wasn't looking. You were so angry with me, and it took me some time to figure out why. It didn't make sense to me. But you gave me my tea, and then you sat down and began to unpack my gear, cleaning and sharpening my blades for me... You did everything that you were supposed to do, and things that were not your responsibility, and I just watched you, trying to figure you out."

"I needed to show you that I could be a help to you," Lexa said softly. "I needed you to think that you needed me."

"Because you needed me."

"Yes."

Anya reached out then, laying her hand on Lexa's knee and squeezing once, gently, before letting go. "I'm sorry I was so slow to realize what you were doing, and why. I'm sorry that I held myself back from you, thinking that it would make you stronger... or maybe thinking that you were already strong and didn't need any kind of comfort or reassurance... or maybe just not thinking at all."

"You were hurt," Lexa said, as if that would excuse it.

"So were you," Anya replied. "It just wasn't physical, and I couldn't understand." She sighed. "It wasn't until the next morning, when I woke up to find you already gone, your bed tidy, tea waiting for me but not you... that's when I felt it. Then when I realized that you meant something more than just a person to train to be a warrior. And if I felt that, what did you feel?" She shook her head. "So I made myself get up, and limped outside to find you. You were practicing with your sword, cuts and blocks, defending yourself against an invisible opponent, although I doubt that they were invisible to you. I watched as you battled whoever it was to the death and struck the final blow, but there was no triumph on your face, only grim determination. And then I called out to you, and you looked up, and it might just have been the chilly morning, but your cheeks were flushed, and you looked like you'd been caught at something. 'Come here,'" I said.

"And I came, thinking you were going to chastise me, or pick apart my form... not to be cruel but to make me better."

"There was nothing to pick apart," Anya said. "It was good. And that's not why I called you over."

"No," Lexa said. "I remember." It was one of her most vivid memories, really, because it meant so much. She'd walked over to Anya, sheathing her blade, and stood in front of her with her back straight, her lips pressed together, trying very hard to keep her expression blank as she looked up, meeting Anya's eyes. 

Anya had put her hands on her shoulders, just looking at her for a moment, then moved them to cup each side of her neck, her thumbs tracing along the lines of her jaw before she let go completely... but only long enough to pull her in and hug her, tight, and not just for a second. "It is good to see you, Lexa," she'd whispered, and it was only then that Lexa had hugged her back, letting herself cling as hard as she'd wanted to from the moment that she'd seen Anya come limping back into the village.

She hadn't cried, although she'd wanted to. She'd just held on, too long and too tight and not at all like a warrior should, but Anya didn't let go either, not for a long time (or at least it had felt long, but it had been a long time since Lexa had been shown any kind of affection so maybe it was just a trick of her mind), just letting Lexa hold on until they were both breathing normally again (unless Lexa had just imagined the catch in Anya's breath). 

"Breakfast first, before training," Anya had said then, and had gone to make it for both of them, because of all the things that Lexa was good at, cooking was not one of them. "Come." 

Anya was looking at her now, like she could see the memories flickering behind her eyes. "I realized that day that taking a second – especially a second whose parents were gone, who had no family to return to – was more than just training a warrior. You were my responsibility. You were mine to care for, and that went beyond just feeding you and trying to make sure you knew what you needed to know to not get yourself killed. But now... now the tables have turned, and the ways that I can care for you aren't the same. And it's hard to wrap my mind around."

"You think it's hard for _you_?" Lexa asked, but there was no ire in her voice. "I was your responsibility – now you are mine. Now everyone is mine. I don't know how to do this."

"No one does," Anya said. "You just do the best you can."

"And what if that's not good enough?"

"Then you die, and another takes your place."

Lexa managed to suppress a shudder at the coldness of the words. Anya didn't say them to upset her; they weren't a threat. It was only the truth laid out bare, a fact of life – her life – that she had to accept. Going into battle she had faced death many times, but she had always known that there would be an end to it, and she would win or she would lose, but it would be over soon enough, one way or another. This, though... this would not end. Not any time soon, anyway, if she could help it. She was going into battle, but that battle would be every moment of every day, until it killed her.

"We should rest," she said, even though she knew she would not sleep.

"Do you want me to go?" Anya asked.

"No," Lexa said. 

"All right."

So Anya stayed, and maybe they could have talked more to pass the time that they weren't sleeping, but they didn't say a word, lost instead in their own thoughts. Lexa dozed off a few hours before dawn, but morning came far too early.

The ride of Polis wasn't that long – it could be made in a day – but it felt eternal, and when they arrived she wasn't prepared for the response of the people as they surrounded her and her people, calling 'Heda, Heda' and some of them reaching out to touch her. She pulled sharply on her reins, moving out of the way of grasping hands, because how was she to know whether their intent was good or ill? They had no reason to dislike her, but on the other hand they had no reason to like her, either. 

Finally they were behind walls again, and Lexa found herself trying to catch her breath as if she'd been running rather than riding, and not even at a gallop. She looked around at the people – her people, but strangers – who had met her, and almost before she knew what was happening she was being led away to be dressed, her hair combed and arranged into elaborate braids. "Anya," she called, before she could be chivvied away completely. 

So Anya followed, and Anya watched. And as they were finishing her hair, she approached Lexa. "You will need warpaint," she said. "You show too much sometimes, in your face and in your eyes."

Lexa frowned. It was an old argument, an old complaint. "I'll do it," she said. It wasn't as if she hadn't marked her face like any other warrior before going into battle.

"I had something else in mind," Anya said. "Something more striking, more distinctive. Something that would be unique to you – to Heda."

She hesitated, then nodded. "Go ahead," Lexa said. She could always wash it off if she didn't like it.

Anya's fingers were cool and gentle on her skin as she touched her face, drawing and smudging, the black stain spreading all around her eyes and out to her temples, and then lines down her cheeks – one, two, three on each side. She held up a scrap of mirror for Lexa to see. "There."

Lexa blinked. She hardly recognized herself... but then she wasn't herself anymore, was she? Not completely. Not ever again. She was Heda, and this was what Heda looked like. 

She nodded, and stood. "Let's go," she said, and went to face her people.


End file.
